If You Will Only Remember Me
by curlycutie016
Summary: The story behind the story you knew. A girl’s affections waver between the man who she thought she loved and the man who holds her life in his hands.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer and A/N  
  
Ok so obviously I don't own any of the characters from the movie Troy. The ones who weren't in the movie are mine.  
  
And if you review saying "Achilles was gay and Patroclus was his lover! Briseis was a slave not royalty! You stupid loser!"  
  
I'm going to call YOU a stupid loser because the fanfiction for Troy is under Movie category not under Books listed as the Iliad, if it was then all of the above bitchness you could dish, but since it isn't you can't! So I'm not a stupid loser, the people who Hollywood-ized the movie are. I'm just writing fanfiction.  
  
And if you've read the Iliad and are pissed about Troy fanfiction, then don't read it!  
  
Sorry about that but it had to be done.  
  
Now enjoy :) 


	2. Past Memories and Affections

If You Will Only Remember Me  
  
By Felicia aka curlycutie  
  
For Christina  
  
Chapter 1: Past memories and affections  
  
It was a cool morning, compared to how hot the midday would be. The sun hadn't risen yet so dew covered the leaves of the plants that were low to the ground.  
  
The streets were quiet and deserted except for a stray dog here and there, just a lone figure walked silently to one of the south western walls of the city of Troy.  
  
It was a young woman who was headed towards the south west wall to an underground passage that would lead her outside the city gates to her destination.  
  
She'd donned the white ornamental gown and headdress, which was worn by all of the virginal priestesses in the service of the gods.  
  
She'd just entered in the service of the god Apollo, and it was to her duty to light the sacred incense and to sing the chants of praise to the god who would bring the dawn and protect the city of Troy.  
  
As she walked she thought to herself, 'Why am I doing this? Is this what I really want? There must be more than this. How did it come to this?'  
  
Her thoughts drifted to the memories that would stay with her forever.  
  
././././.  
  
"You're rivaling the royal ward, for your beauty is becoming great Chrysanthe," Paris, the prince of Troy, smiled at the young woman who had passed him in the garden as he was practicing archery, "Briseis should be jealous."  
  
Chrysanthe who had been on her way to gather dates for the evening feast tried not to blush. But it was in vain to try to hide how pleased she was that the handsome young Paris had complimented her.  
  
"Thank you, your highness, may Apollo guide your arrows true as his own," Chrysanthe said lowering her gaze modestly and bowing her head.  
  
Paris put down his bow and arrow and walked over to the other side of the date tree where Chrysanthe was attempting to hide behind.  
  
He reached his hand under her chin to look into her eyes.  
  
"Greener than laurel leaves," he murmured.  
  
Chrysanthe tried not to gaze too adoringly into Paris' eyes. It was too hard; she couldn't help but be enamored with the man whom she'd loved since she was a little girl shyly offering the young prince a cloth to wipe his hands after dining.  
  
He was very handsome, dark curly hair, brown eyes that looked into your soul; the hand that cupped her chin was surprisingly soft, compared to the hands of fellow servants.  
  
'He's a prince of course he wouldn't have hands like a farmer!' Chrysanthe thought to herself, 'how stupid could you be?'  
  
It seemed to Chrysanthe that they stood there for hours, but it was only a moment. Paris dropped his hand and resumed his archery.  
  
Chrysanthe was frozen on the spot, she was afraid to move lest it all been a wonderful dream.  
  
"Chrysanthe get back to the kitchens! We need those dates!" a voice pierced the serenity of the garden.  
  
Chrysanthe shook herself gave a small bow of leave to the prince before heading to the back of the garden to where the outdoor kitchens were located.  
  
"Stop!," said Paris.  
  
Chrysanthe went ridged and stopped on the spot, not even turning to face him.  
  
Paris walked over to her. She was lovely, dark curly hair wrapped up in a scarf, dark green eyes, and surprisingly pale skin that was shrouded in a faded linen shift with a dark blue shawl around it.  
  
'She'd be devastatingly beautiful wearing green silks,' Paris thought to himself, then aloud to Chrysanthe, "You used to work in the palace more often, why has your stationed changed?"  
  
'He noticed that I'd left!' Chrysanthe thought excitedly.  
  
"I was told, you're highness, that I look too similar to the lady Briseis and that I would be of more use in the kitchens," Chrysanthe honestly stated, "I do not know why the similarities between the lady and I would make any difference?"  
  
Paris smiled at the girl for being so forward, normally a servant would just say "I am told and I do whatever you will."  
  
"I can see the similarities, as I told you before, you are her are the same age and stature," Paris said then moved in closer so he was talking softly in her ear, "I think they hid you, so that suitors for Briseis wouldn't abandon her as their conquest and seek after you instead."  
  
'Oh gods he's so close to me!' Chrysanthe thought as his breath warmed her face gently, caressing her, 'this is so closer to heaven that it feels like hell.'  
  
"Chrysanthe!" the cry from the back of the garden came again.  
  
"Excuse me highness," Chrysanthe made a small bow before fleeing as fast as she could.  
  
././././.  
  
Paris smiled to himself; it was true she did look like his cousin, but the way she turned into melted wax when he would just murmur a common man's compliment was almost too amusing.  
  
'She's such a simple girl,' Paris thought to himself, 'She probably doesn't have enough wits about her to get her into a higher position than a kitchen worker.'  
  
Paris shrugged before resuming his archery again.  
  
"Paris!" a voice called from an upper balcony.  
  
He titled his head upwards into the sun, blinking he saw that it was his older brother Hector.  
  
"Hector what has you yelling like a fisherman's wife?" Paris said laughingly back.  
  
"You better get inside father has news of a treaty we are to organize," Hector called down.  
  
Paris nodded before turning to the small boy that had stood silently in a corner of the garden the whole time, "You there boy," and handed him his bow and arrows.  
  
As Paris walked inside he passed a laurel bush, he laughed aloud at his comparison to the servant's eyes to the sacred bush of Apollo.  
  
'Yes she was amusing, I'll send for her soon,' Paris thought to himself.  
  
././././.  
  
As Chrysanthe made her way into the kitchens she saw the kitchen matron Ioanna, red faced carrying a large wooden spoon, which she used as a taste tester, but mostly it was a switch for misbehaving kitchen workers.  
  
The kitchen had many workers, far too many to count, and if you had the time you wouldn't have been able to because the kitchen had people buzzing around it like bees in a hive.  
  
Hopefully in all the shuffle, Chrysanthe wouldn't be noticed.  
  
Chrysanthe swallowed and ducked into an alcove full of vases filled with olive oil and occupied herself hoping Ioanna wouldn't notice her.  
  
It looked like she'd avoided the wrath of Ioanna for the moment, so Chrysanthe went back to the area where she was assigned to prepare food.  
  
'He talked to me! The prince talked to me! Me a lowly servant girl! He said I rivaled Briseis who's one of the most beautiful women in the city of Troy!' Chrysanthe thought happily.  
  
As she chopped the dates into fine slices she listened and overheard two of the other servant girls, who were her own age, talking.  
  
They weren't kitchen workers they were servers at the king's hall, so usually they had the best gossip.  
  
"Aglaia you have to tell me all about what happened last night," the girl with reddish brown hair said to the girl with the outlandishly dyed hair.  
  
"Elene I don't know what you're talking about," said Aglaia.  
  
"Yes you do!" Elene persisted to her friend, "last night you waited on Prince Paris, and he motioned you over, later on when we were clearing the tables we couldn't find you and Paris had retired early for the evening, and the next thing I know you're wandering in at four in the morning! And you say you don't know what I'm talking about!"  
  
Aglaia flushed, looked around then leaned in closer to her friend with a gleam in her eye, "last night I had a proper bath, wore a new linen dress," she lowered her voice even lower, "and visited the prince in his quarters."  
  
Elene put on a mock face of shock, "You lucky girl! I'm so jealous of you, a night with a prince!"  
  
Both girls squealed gleefully.  
  
Chrysanthe felt a knot growing in her stomach, 'it couldn't be true, Paris isn't like that, he's a good man, and he wouldn't take that dog into his bed.'  
  
'She's making it up, trying to give herself airs!' Chrysanthe thought as she shook her head in disgust at the servant girl.  
  
'Vile creature, making up lies about Paris,' she thought as she chopped the dates more deftly.  
  
"Chrysanthe!" came loud voice before Whack! The wooden spoon fell hard across her back.  
  
Chrysanthe remembered not to cry out in pain or to whirl around and fight back the way she'd always been taught to by her brothers.  
  
"You deliberately disobeyed me, and ignored my calls this morning, you better have a good reason," said Ioanna, who looked like she was ready to strike again.  
  
The workers in the immediate area stopped talking but continued to work silently, hoping to hear what the excuse was.  
  
Chrysanthe turned and lowered her gaze, "Madame I was delayed because his royal highness the Prince Paris requested me to speak to him."  
  
'Please believe me please, Apollo make her see the truth," Chrysanthe silently pleaded.  
  
Ioanna looked at Chrysanthe suspiciously before saying, "All right, but if I find you have lied, then you'll never want to see a spoon again," she shook the spoon menacingly, "I'll ask his highness himself."  
  
With that said she huffed and puffed away to another part of the kitchen.  
  
'Oh Paris please remember me, remembered the way you called out to me this morning,' Chrysanthe thought as she released the breath she was holding. 


End file.
